


Sanguinis Noctis

by ghostofshe



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Casual Sex, F/F, Freeform, Gift Fic, Legion-Aligned Courier, Light Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 22:24:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13327626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostofshe/pseuds/ghostofshe
Summary: Red Lucy waits for the return of her Hunter





	Sanguinis Noctis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NothingAlarming](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NothingAlarming/gifts).



> Written for a holiday gift exchange! For [NothingAlarming](http://archiveofourown.org/users/NothingAlarming/pseuds/NothingAlarming)  
> Meta Note: The Courier in this fic is my character Nox from [Qui Sumus](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12733236/chapters/29035365)

Stars glint through the dark blanket of the sky, grains of sand rustling along the pavement in the almost bitterly cold breeze. Even the crows seem to have fallen silent by now, leaving only the distant yipping of a coyote to greet her as she slides the manhole cover back into place. The metallic _clunk_ carving a gash through the air around her.

She takes her time above ground whenever she can get it, but nights are her favourite. There is something invigorating about the quiet and the isolation, two things she rarely gets to savor while she’s watching over the Thorn. It is a private sort of paradise, to roam the outskirts of Vegas under cover of darkness.

With the orange crackle of her lighter, Red Lucy sparks up a cigarette, letting her shoulders sag as she takes a long inhale. She rolled a dozen just this morning, and it will take her another smoke after this to be truly sated, but still there is something to be said for that first breath. Like a chaser of fine liquor to wash away all the day’s deeds up until this point.

She steps through her own cloud of smoke, its tendrils curling around her like branches as she makes her way slowly down the street. The cherry glows brightly with her occasional drags, like sending out a beacon through the shadows.

Eventually she finds herself at the Casa Madrid, nods to the man sitting guard outside. There’s an issue of always forgetting his name, and so she never greets him aloud, only with a gesture in passing. From there, she turns a corner and props herself against the empty, yawning doorway to an abandoned apartment building, watching the burning end of her smoke slowly make its way towards her fingertips. She tosses it aside, draws another from the rusty little case tucked in her back pocket.

By the time her second cigarette is depleted, enough time has passed that she considers moving on, looping around the block before she makes her way back to the sewers, back to the comfort of her bed.

Until a silhouette bleeds out of the yawning shadows, blinks into existence in the meager light of some far-off street lamp. It is her Hunter, all black armor and dimly golden hair, face vague and unreadable as always.

They regard each other indirectly for a moment, neither speaking. It has been over a month since her Hunter has returned to the Thorn, or come to find her amidst the ruins like this. There is never a promise of next time, and so each time it is an unexpected pleasure to find herself in the other’s presence. Each time, she allows herself to relish the simple act of seeing her once again.

The Hunter steps forward and Red Lucy at last offers her a smile, flicks the dying stub of her smoke away and hums through the dissipating haze.

“S _equitur_ ,” says the Hunter, nodding her head towards the door frame.

She enjoys her Hunter’s language, the language of the Legion. She doesn’t speak it, but her understanding has grown quickly. The sewers are no stranger to Legion soldiers and spies, and neither is she.

The Hunter ducks into the ruined building and she follows behind. Sometimes they merely sit in silence during these meetings, share a cigarette, maybe get to know each other in other ways. Other times, they recline on the sand and discuss the stars, argue which stories about them are true.

As they stand amidst the rubble and rebar of the collapsed building, moonlight pouring through the demolished second floor and decayed ceiling turning everything into an unearthly blue. In the center of the room, mostly shielded by the remaining four walls around it, is a dead fire pit.

She follows the Hunter to the fire pit and they set down on cardboard just beside it, their shoulders together as she lights another cigarette, passes it over.

“I hope the road has been good to you,” she says, her eyes falling to her Hunter’s lips as she reverently presses the thin paper stub of the cigarette to them, takes a modest puff.

“I’ve yet to see it treat me poorly,” the smoke is passed back, and Red toys with it in her hand a moment. Watching how quickly it burns down.

The flavor of tobacco settles upon the air between them, and a short time later the Hunter crushes the cigarette on the grimy cement. Her eyes catch in the moonlight like a nightstalker’s, and her smile is poisonous as she leans in towards Red, a hand against her cheek as she speaks.

“Perhaps you should come with me, when I depart again tomorrow.”

It’s not the first time she’s asked. Hopefully it will not be the last.

No answer needs to be given, instead she leans into the hand against her cheek, enjoying the touch for a moment. Then she curls a hand around the back of her Hunter’s neck, crushes their lips together. Voracious as her Hunter returns the motion with equal force, claiming her mouth with eager swipes of her tongue, tasting and consuming before she draws away. Places one more kiss on her lower lip as she cards her fingers through Red’s hair.

She leans her forehead against her Hunter’s and revels in the warm breath against her cheek. Her world is so often devoid of these sorts of things, small touches and quiet moments of peace. It is best to make such moments last, live inside them while it is possible. Crawl away from distant noise and light and into waiting arms.

Red’s shoulders draw rigid as the hand tightens in her hair, and she leans back onto the cardboard, propped up on her elbows as her Hunter crawls atop her. Knee between her legs, stirring her need with each subtle motion, deft hands shoving her coat aside and working beneath her shirt.

They fall into the motion of it, clothes messily discarded into a pile as they rock against one another, her Hunter’s fingers trailing tantalizingly along her skin, leaving her shivering in their wake. She bucks her hips into her Hunter’s mouth, warm tongue exploring her folds and laving indulgently over her clit, sampling and teasing Lucy into a frenzy, sending her along a current of pure bliss. Hands scrambling for purchase against the soft grain of the cardboard beneath them as she comes undone. Her cries washed away beneath the moonlight as she arches upwards and falls, her legs twitching in the violent aftermath of her release. Her Hunter curls around her, places an affectionate kiss along the edge of her jaw, murmuring something in her Legion tongue that she doesn't have the energy to translate.

When she wakes, her Hunter will be gone, but for now she simply lies back. Listens to the call of that same coyote off in the distance, the retreating echo of it filling up the silence like whispered promises, guiding her to sleep.


End file.
